


Against All Odds

by indiesoul



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Carol is an assasin, Drama, Europe, Eventual Smut, F/F, Lots of Background, Mystery, Romance, Slow Burn, Therese is an Art restorer, They both change each other’s lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16247861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiesoul/pseuds/indiesoul
Summary: Modern time setting in Europe, Therese is an Art restorer in Paris struggling to find the satisfaction she yearns for, until one day a mysterious woman enters her life through the door of a local cafe, changing everything she's ever believed in.





	1. Killer Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing but I hope you'll board this ship with me.  
> Should I have started another fic? No. Am I doing it anyway? Yes.

**Kiev – December 15th, 2018**

 

A gelid gust of the winter wind was followed by the slamming sound of a door being shut, penetrating the ominous silence that echoed within the walls of the mostly empty room.Therese’s heart dropped for a second at the unexpected loud noise, picking up speed immediately after and filling her ears with the pounding of her beats.The sudden rush of blood to the peripheral areas of her body made her slightly dizzy, momentarily blurring her vision and making her hand search for the nearest object to clutch tightly, in a desperate attempt to steady herself. Her palm found the surface of the kitchen counter, gripping its edge with her fingers in a semi- fist.

The long breath she drew in order to calm her nerves filled her nose with the almost overwhelming olfactory information from her surroundings. The musty smell of humidity and the nauseating odor coming from the gas cylinder of the heater permeated the air of the small apartment.Twisting her lips in disgust she resumed the task she came in the kitchen for. She picked up a small box from a drawer, cringing as its greasy handle left a sticky sensation on her fingers. Dragging one of the matches’ head along the striker she produced a small flame and, as she held it close to the stove, the burner finally came to life enveloping the boiler of an old steely moka pot.

As she waited for the coffee to brew she held both her hands near the fire trying to restore some much needed heat in her body. The pads of her fingers had started to feel painfully numb,except for the mild tingling sensation she would feel whenever they came in contact with something. Therese looked down at her feet, then up at her beautifully embroidered cream shirt. She loved that shirt, it was one of her favorites, she’d never even worn it for work since she didn’t want to risk ruining it with possible splashes of the chemicals she used, so she wondered why she had eventually decided to take it with her in – _this_. She sighed running her now greasy fingers through her hair; she desperately needed a shower and a change of clothes – the crimson stains on her clothes had started to look gruesome.

A few minutes later, a gurgling sound and the intense aroma signaled that the fresh coffee had finally filled the kettle. She poured the hot brown liquid in two plastic cups, carefully holding them between her thumbs and forefingers by the rim so as not to scald her hands, and walked towards the one single bedroom of that tiny crappy apartment, each step accompanied by the cracking sound of the hardwood floor beneath her feet.

She placed the two improvised cups on the nightstand and sat down on the bed. The mattress sagged under her weight prompting a small, breathless whimper. Therese looked down at the white t-shirt which stains matched hers in color but _certainly_ not in size.

Her hand reached out to brush a strand of blonde hair plastered down with sweat away from her forehead, taking her time to observe the beautiful grey orbs staring back at her.

“What do we do now?”

 

 

**~*~*~*~**

**Paris – November 2017**

It was barely 7 of an autumn morning in Paris. The red and orange fallen leaves made a rustling sound under the soles of Therese’s boots as she walked. She loved the city this time of the year, especially this early in the day, when the crispness of the air would slightly sting her skin and awaken her senses, and the typical urban noises were reduced to a minimum, making all the other sounds really stand out; like the metal roller shutters of the shops being open, ready for another day of work, or the ringing bell of a bicycle passing by.

This morning had started off particularly well for Therese, having been woken up to an email from the Director of the Uffizi Galleries in Florence, offering her the position as supervisor in the restoration team she had long aspired to. She had been freelancing in Paris for almost 10 months and now she yearned for a change. Therese loved her job very much, but found that the role she had here as part of the staff of a small museum wasn’t fulfilling enough; she had started to dread the routine and the ever-growing inability to find any kind of satisfaction.

As she finally turned a corner she found herself in a narrow but extremely picturesque alley. The street was embellished with the brilliant green of the ivy leaves cascading down the walls, and with colorful flowers that hung from the rails of the balconies. Therese entered a small local café, the best one in Paris according to her. It wasn’t exceptional in its aesthetic, but it was characteristic, and most importantly, particularly hard to find making it almost impossible to be invaded by throngs of loud tourists, all too cheery before they even had a cup of coffee for Therese’s likings. The place was a family-run business, and over the many months she’d been coming here she became a regular, just like all the other costumers that came here every day to enjoy their morning breakfast.

Marcel and Colette were an elderly couple who had invested in this café after Marcel was forced to an early-retirement by the company he used to work for. Their daughter worked here too, from time to time. Elise was almost Therese’s age, only a few years younger, and an aspiring fashion designer. She was a pretty girl with long brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes that adorned the most angelic face Therese had ever seen.

These people became really close to her; they called each other by their names, and they knew Therese’s usual order by heart. They were always genuinely interested in her life. Some afternoons Therese would come here just to sit at the counter, sipping her coffee and talking about her job, or about one of her most recent dates – which usually ended up in disaster; Colette would tell her that the right girl was just around the corner and that one day she would walk through that very door and sweep Therese off her feet when she least expected it.

This morning was just like the others. She took her usual seat at the small table by the window and started reading the paper she bought from the newstand across the street just like any other day, waiting for her latte and fresh croissant to arrive, knowing Colette would bring them to her table so that she had an excuse to exchange a few words with her. She looked around the place, immediately recognizing all of the regulars. Not unlike Therese, they were mostly here alone; workers trying to enjoy thirty minutes of peace out of their daily routine, before they would inevitably be sucked again into the monotony of their lives. They were all well acquainted with each one of them, and the familiarity of their faces was something that Therese suspected everyone silently enjoyed, as if their regular presence here was something they knew they could count on to bring a much needed sense of stability in the uncertainty of life. So, it was only natural that when the bell tinkled as the door opened revealing the slim, tall figure of a stranger, everyone’s head snapped up in surprise to study the new unknown costumer.

It was a woman, with lean legs and shoulder-length blonde locks. Her back was turned towards Therese, therefore impeding the glance she so desperately wanted to sneak at her face. But the low and husky, yet feminine voice, was enough to make the hair on her arms stand up and her heart skip a beat. Therese studied her, inexplicably craving to commit every single detail of her to memory. The bright poppy red of her coat is what immediately caught her attention; Therese found it enhanced the silvery blonde of the stranger’s hair. Her seemingly endless legs were perfectly enveloped in tight jeans that stopped a few inches above her ankles, leaving the skin there exposed, before it was wrapped again in the black velvet of her décolleté.

The woman slowly turned her head to one side, as if she sensed a pair of eyes intently focused on her, enough for Therese to catch a glimpse of an angular jaw and beautiful, prominent cheekbones; her skin even from a distance, even partially hidden behind the thick curtain of hair looked impossibly ethereal, and Therese’s palms itched with the overwhelming need to _feel_ it.

Once she was handed her coffee, the blonde stranger walked towards one of the available tables in the farthest corner of the room and sat down, never averting her gaze from the small cup of coffee. Therese’s heart was now pounding eratically against her chest as she was able to get a better look at her face; all the beauty in the world could not even hope to compete with what Therese was lucky enough to be admiring, she fet like she could drown in that beauty. The magnetic force that glued her eyes on her was simply too strong to resist, so she stared – she stared for what felt like forever – until the coldest of eyes were now staring back at her.

Blue and grey, gelid like a winter storm and freezing Therese deep in her bones. Her eyes had a stillness, a _lively_ deadness she had never seen before, they made her shiver but never look away,

Eyes so intense they could easily kill.


	2. Ultraviolence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small peek at their personalities before we move forward with the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Carol is wild and I'm not even slightly sorry about it.

_I was filled with poison,_

_but blessed with beauty and rage._

_Ultraviolence - Lana Del rey_

 

She swung her foot to the soft rhythm of jazz playing in the background, waiting for her dry Martini while her eyes inspected her surroundings. The hotel bar was dimly lit by the crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling over the counter and by the many lights coming from outside through the vast windows, which were only partially covered by maroon velvet drapes. The brown oak walls were decorated by golden doodles and the ceiling was beautifully embellished by a Renaissance-style fresco. It was a luxurious and sophisticated place, and if its aesthetic wasn’t enough to give the idea of _wealth_ , the black tuxedos and obviously designer dresses as well as the way these people carried themselves, was an indicator of their high-class social status.

Her targets were typically all the same, filthy riches who had probably stepped on too many toes to get where they were now; today’s target was no different. A middle-aged, apparently handsome entrepreneur, who had the reputation to be a true Casanova – at least that’s what her file said – not that she needed to be facilitated by their sex-driven nature, she was well aware she could have them all at her feet if she wanted. Like now, she could sense their eyes fixed on her bare back, left exposed by the red silky dress she had chosen for this job. She sipped at her drink and smirked behind her glass as she imagined the wedding bands on their fingers, certain that most of them were here in the company of their wives – _men_ , she thought.

As she continued scanning the room with fake interest, she casually focused her attention on the target. He was sitting across from her, on the other side of the bar where the counter made a curve, engaging in a conversation with another man. He was tall, his presence imposing and despite his mostly grey hair he looked objectively handsome. She immediately felt a surge of an all too familiar sense of adrenaline, coupled with the knowledge that she had nothing to lose, it made her feel _powerful_.

She tilted her head to one side, pushing out her red lips just a little, and fixing her impenetrable stare on him; she knew they liked it, when she looked so damn unapproachable, it gave them the irresistible thrill of the chase– little did they know she was the hunter and they her prey. She knew the exact moment she had them trapped in her web; it was the almost imperceptible twitch of their eyes, the way they inhaled a deep breath thrusting out their chest in that typical attempt to exude some strength. She gazed at him with the right amount of _heat_ in her eyes, but never for too long, instead she let them come to her. It wasn’t long before she felt the warmth of a hand brushing the skin of her lower back, his presence now invading her personal space, and his hot breath on her neck as he whispered.

“Can I get you something?”

She rewarded him with a suggestive glance, then she lift the drink she’d been leisurely nursing to her lips and downed the last of her Martini, locking eyes with him and sliding the now empty glass an inch across the counter, keeping its stem between her index and middle finger. He smiled at her and she didn’t fail to notice how his eyes had momentarily dropped to her low-cut neckline.

“A dry Martini. Two olives.”

 The man waved his hand at the bartender getting his attention, and repeated her choice of drink. The next thing she knew, he was pressing his body against her side, leaning in close to her ear again. She could feel his 5 o’clock shadow scratching the curve of her shoulder, and the strong smell of whiskey coming from his mouth that mixed with his nauseating cologne.

“May I ask your name?”

Her lips twisted in a small smile as she tilted her head slightly to one side, exposing the long line of her neck, and letting her blonde locks cascade over her shoulder.

“Emily.”

“What a nice name, perfect for a gorgeous woman like you.”

She tapped her fingers against the counter impatiently, barely acknowledging his compliment, and waiting for the question she knew he was dying to ask.”

“So, Emily… what do you like?”

She smiled lasciviously, crossing her leg over the other causing her dress to ride up her thigh.

“Oh I like a lot of things,” she said accentuating her last word with a roll of her tongue.

She could predict his every move in advance, like his hand now cupping her knee and sliding up an inch underneath the fabric of her dress; it had always been one of her greatest skills, one that had proved to be extremely efficient and useful in multiple occasions. She knew they would have talked more for about half an hour, he would have ordered another drink and filled the small silences with shallow, meaningless compliments, before he would check his phone, suspiciously looking around for familiar faces that needed to be avoided, and casually get up from his seat leaning in to ask her if she’d want to follow him in his room.

And that’s exactly what happened before she found herself in an elevator on their way to his suite. His body pressed against her, trapping her between his broad chest and the wall behind, his large hands roaming over her ass and sliding underneath the strings of her thong.

She let him have it.

His hands were on her all the way to his room. He fumbled trying to insert the keycard into the lock to open the door. She liked it when they were this frantic and eager, so lost in the pursue of their desires to be able to notice the change in her; how, at some point, she stopped nibbling his ear and letting out sweet moans of pleasure, or how her hips had ceased to rotate against his grinding groin.

The suite was big and dark, and she knew there at the entrance was a full-length mirror from where she was slammed against the wall, as she felt the cold flat surface against her skin. He sucked at her pulse point, behind her ear and under her jaw, as his fingers pressed hard into her hip keeping her close. She pushed him with force away from her and smirked at the look of incredulity crossing his face as he tried to regain his balance. She didn’t wait for a response, she simply walked towards his bedroom and sat down on the edge of his king-size bed.

These were the type of men she despised the most, those who exerted control with physical aggression by forcing their masculinity upon her. In the end, they were the ones who came back looking for her like little puppies.

He was in front of her tilting her head back, his hand gripping a fistful of her hair; again – boringly predictable. Rising from her sitting position, she spun them around and shoved him backward, his tall figure slumping heavily against the mattress. Quickly, she straddled his lap before she methodically slid the straps of her dress over her shoulders letting the fabric pool at her waist and exposing her braless chest. She took his tie in hand and pulled him up, guiding him towards her.

His mouth was on her again, fingers digging the flesh of her ass.

“Hands to yourself,” she commanded and his lips twisted in a crooked smile.

“You like taking control.”

She cupped the base of his head keeping him close to her chest, careful not to let her fingernails scratch his skin. “Very much. Now _lick_ ,” she said, pressing him harshly against her breasts, and leaving him no choice but to comply.

His tongue poked out pressing it flat on her skin as he started to lick and suck and swirl around her nipples. It usually took approximately two minutes, so she waited, she waited until she felt him clutching, first at her hips then at her arms, until the rhythm of his breath changed turning asthmatic. She waited for the look of realization to cross his face as he saw the heat of seduction that had once been burning in her eyes, extinguished by the coldest of gazes.

 

**~*~*~*~**

 

“We are exceptionally impressed with your work experience Ms. Belivet, especially considering your young age. We would be happy to welcome you in our team, we firmly believe that you’d be a great addition and a perfect fit for the position we are offering.”

Therese pressed down the up/down buttons on the side of her phone increasing the volume, the loud noises coming from the traffic around her making it almost impossible to hear what the person on the other end of the phone was saying.

“Thank you. Yes, I have worked very hard over the past few years, and I think one of my greatest strengths is the ability to adapt quite easily to any situation. Changes and contingencies do not scare me Mr. Poletti, and I take difficulties as challenges.”

“This is very important in our line of work. As you know, there are thing that sometimes need a shift in perspective, aiming to achieve the same results albeit with a change of methods and techniques… your versatility is definitely what we are looking for. What do you think is you greatest professional achievement?”

She hastily looked to her left, then to her right, trying to keep the phone as close as possible, before she crossed the street in the direction of a familiar alley.

“I took part in the restoration of a Rembrandt. It was a perfect example of great team work, we have all contributed to the remarkable final result, and well now it’s being exposed again at the Rijksmuseum.”

“That’s very impressing Ms. Belivet. And why are you leaving your current job?”

“Although I value the opportunity I was granted here, I am looking for something more stimulating, a change in direction, to really have a chance of challenging myself and stepping out of my comfort zone.”

“That’s certainly something you’ll be able to find here with us. I have one more question and then I’ll let you ask for any clarification. Are you planning on having children?”

She hated when they asked her that, she barely even knew what to order for lunch let alone if she wanted to have children. Besides, it was ridiculous to be still subjected to that kind of retrograde mentality.“No, I do not.”

“Good, it’s just that we need as much consistency as possible, it’s really nothing personal.”

Therese mentally scoffed at his remark. In the meantime she had entered the cozy environment of the café, smiling at Marcel and Colette before she took her usual seat by the window. “Yes, of course.”

“That’s it Ms. Belivet. You can take a few days to consider the offer, my assistant will contact you on Monday and then we can settle all the arrangements, including defining your starting date…which you already know won’t be before March 2018. Do you have any questions for us?”

“No, I’m good Mr. Poletti. Thank you very much for this opportunity.”

“All right then. We’ll talk again on Monday. Have a nice weekend Ms. Belivet.

Therese set her phone aside and sighed looking at the street through the big window. She had been offered one of the most prestigious roles that someone her age could ever aspire to, but as the initial thrill had started to wear off, she was left with the same sense of dullness that had been chasing her incessantly for years now. She had worked many jobs, lived in different cities and countries, had made a name for herself as an Art restorer all around Europe, yet nothing ever felt remotely satisfying; the barely there excitement dissipated and she was left once again feeling empty.

Over the last year, and a few failed relationships later, she had come to realize that as much as she craved love, yearned for the warmth of a body she could wake up to in the morning, the reason for her inability to be with someone lay in the fact that she simply needed to fill that void first; understand why there was nothing that could make her truly feel _alive_.

She was looking around, scanning her surroundings for the old familiar faces, when her eyes fell on that empty seat in the far corner of the room. She thought of that woman; Therese hadn’t seen her since that very first time she entered this café almost a week ago. She focused on the table, imagining her there sipping her coffee, brushing her blonde hair away from her face and looking like the most beautiful creature Therese had ever laid eyes on.

It was only when she felt the gentle hand of Colette on her shoulder snapping out of her reverie, that she realized her heart was thumping _hard_ against her chest.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears, I was seriously overwhelmed with the response to the last chapter, thank you so much to all of you who read, kudo-ed, and commented, so much love <3
> 
> Your comments keep me inspired, talk to me:)


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